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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26479006">A noble, Nobel ceremony</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alphawave/pseuds/Alphawave'>Alphawave</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The universe sings [17]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Overwatch (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Fluff, I wrote this a long time ago but only now do I actually remember to publish this, M/M, Meet the Family, Nobel Prize, There's a reason I've published this now, and hopefully you guys will see why in the near future ;)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 10:07:23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,738</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26479006</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alphawave/pseuds/Alphawave</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Dr. Siebren de Kuiper finally wins a Nobel Prize for Physics. But he's not nervous about winning the Nobel prize. He's nervous about finally meeting Dr. Harold Winston's parents.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dr. Harold Winston/Sigma | Siebren de Kuiper</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The universe sings [17]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1434493</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A noble, Nobel ceremony</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Siebren took a deep breath in. Then he took a deep breath out. He fiddled with his perfectly pressed suit and combed hair, and felt for his cufflinks—caricatures of the moon and a star. A present from Dr. Harold Winston many months ago, the last time Harold was back down on Earth. They were cheap, but he treasured them. He treasured everything from Harold; not that he ever told his mother that, even though he was sure she knew. His mother was highly perceptive, not unlike Harold. There might’ve been some truth to the adage that sons often looked for partners that resembled their mothers. Siebren didn't know whether that was a good thing or not.</p><p>He could see his features reflected back at him from the camera lens. He looked like a deer in headlights, and for a reason. He was nervous, but not for the reasons many suspected he was. He couldn't care less that he was winning the Nobel Prize in Physics--although he must admit, the prize money would be substantially helpful in his research. He was not nervous about his speech, and he was not nervous about being stuck in a room full of snobby Swedish royals and stuck-up scientists, and it certainly was not because he was forced to put on the most uncomfortable pair of Brogues in existence.</p><p>No, he was nervous about something else. Specifically, what will happen after the ceremony.</p><p>Somewhere in the crowd, obscured by shadows, Harold Winston was sitting with his parents. Siebren's mother, Cornelia de Kuiper, would be sitting beside Harold, a picture of elegance with her perfect make-up and designer-made floor-length gown and perfectly styled grey hair. He wished he could see them, if only to gauge whether or not they were getting along or not. This was Harold's first time meeting Siebren's mother and he wanted this first meeting to go well.</p><p>"It's alright," Harold said in the video call less than a week ago. He'd just about packed up all his things and was ready to head back to Earth and support one of his old mentors, who was nominated for (but did not win) the Nobel Prize in Medicine. "Your mother shouldn't be that bad…should she?"</p><p>"She's not homophobic, if that's what you're implying," Siebren said. "Honestly, I think she's relieved I'm in a relationship with anyone. She seemed to think that just because I am asexual, I would remain alone for the rest of my life."</p><p>"So what's the problem then? Does she not like me?"</p><p>"No, it's not that, it's…" Siebren trailed off.</p><p>Harold frowned. "What is it?"</p><p>"Well, my mother is…of a different breed, you could say."</p><p>"How so?"</p><p>"She was born and raised in a certain social class, which means her views are tinted by her upbringing. It does not help that she has a certain look to her that makes people think she's…less than kind."</p><p>Harold's lips thinned. "She's one of those resting bitch face ladies."</p><p>Siebren winced. "I wouldn't put it like that, but…yes."</p><p>Harold nodded quickly. He tried to smile, but there was no hiding his nervousness. "You're going to be meeting my parents too that night."</p><p>"Dr. Conrad Winston and Mrs. Leela Winston," Siebren uttered. "You've told me their names enough times already. Though I must admit I am surprised they are attending. It's not like you're the one winning anything today."</p><p>"Well, I pulled a few strings, but they really want to meet you. Like…really<em> really </em>want to meet you. They seem to think you're <em>the one</em>." Harold said this with air quotes.</p><p>"And whose fault is it that they got that idea in their heads?" Siebren laughed. </p><p>Harold blushed. "S-shut up. I didn't say <em>that </em>much about you."</p><p>"Of course not. Only my name, age, career, likes and dislikes, and life story." Siebren counted them all out on his hand. "Oh, and I'm sure something along the lines of how you think I'm such a <em>lekker ding</em>."</p><p>Harold's face went crimson. "Siebren, that was one time. You still haven't let it go, have you?"</p><p>"It sounds so cute from your lips, what can I say?" Siebren smirked.</p><p>"You mention that to them, and I'll tell them about the stroopwaffel incident."</p><p>Siebren's brows furrowed. "What stroopwaffel incident?"</p><p>"Remember? The bottle of De Kuyper peach schnapps, the whip cream, the packet of supermarket stroopwaffels, the mat in the bathroom?" Harold pumped his eyebrows suggestively.</p><p>It was Siebren's time to blush. He barely remembered that night, but what little he did, it certainly wasn't proper to talk about in any situation, let alone to his boyfriend's parents. He cleared his throat. "B-blackmail is not a flattering light on you."</p><p>Harold huffed in amusement. "And you thought it was flattering to put whip cream and a cherry on my d--"</p><p>"I get it," Siebren interrupted, still blushing. "I just hope your parents don't have the wrong impression about me."</p><p>"I should be the one saying that. You come from such a noble line of scientists, and then there's just me, whose claim to fame is that I've injected genetic therapies to gorillas in space." Harold went quiet for a few seconds. "I do hope your mom likes me. First impressions matter."</p><p>Siebren knew all too well how a first impression could change his perception. If Harold had behaved any differently during their first meeting, perhaps they wouldn't be in this situation, anxiously awaiting the day that they meet each other's parents, when Siebren might win his Nobel Prize. In all honesty, the prize and fame came second to this first proper meeting between their two families because he detested science for the sake of science, but he wouldn't say it out loud. Harold was panicking enough as it was. </p><p>"It'll be fine," Siebren said eventually. "I'll be there. And I hope you will be too. That should be enough."</p><p>In the real world, the musical interlude had finished. It was time for Siebren to make his way to the stage.</p><p>"And now, winning the Nobel Prize in Physics for the discovery and development of gravitational models as a new means of energy, Dr. Siebren de Kuiper."</p><p>There was light applause as he stood up from his seat and went to the podium. His speech was already laid out there, just as he wrote it, but the papers were only there as an insurance policy. He had memorised it all; had practiced his speech hundreds and hundreds of times to the point that he could recite it in his sleep. In the crowd he searched for Harold amidst a seat of black and white three-piece suits and obnoxiously sparkling dresses.</p><p>It was difficult at first—all the men looked the same in the darkness—but then he saw it. A thumbs-up and a smile up in the balconies from the smartest, most handsome man that Siebren knew. Dr. Harold Winston grinned brightly, his face freshly shaven and his hair freshly waxed. By his side, Siebren's mother, Cornelia de Kuiper, gave a polite wave.</p><p>It took all his effort to not smile. He had an audience, and he needed to be respectable. This moment was his time to shine. "Ladies and gentleman, members of the committee, Your Majesty, Your Royal Highness, and my esteemed colleagues. Today, we acknowledge a simple truth: gravity is a harness..."</p><p>And so he went on, talking about gravity and the ways it could be utilised to harness the power of other gravitational anomalies, and how the physics models he has developed in conjunction with Horizon Lunar Colony will revolutionize how people use energy, how it may be stored, and more. He might have sounded a little mad every now and then, his enthusiasm getting the best of him, but there was no doubt that people were struck by his words. That was all that mattered, didn't it? That the common folk understood what gravity meant. About the power it wielded, for good and for bad.</p><p>The speaker handed Siebren his Nobel medal, which was surprisingly solid. He bowed graciously to a room full of polite applause before returning to his seat, when another musical interlude played. The good thing about going first was that his official duty was over and he could relax slightly. The bad thing about going first was that he had a long wait ahead of him.</p><p>And so he sat in silence, eyes blankly forward, letting his mind wander back to equations and songs and the immeasurable hours he had spent on his research, and all the little moments he had shared with Harold during their courtship. Thinking about them used to calm him before. Perhaps they might calm him today.</p><p>The Nobel Prize winners made their speeches, were given their medal, and sat down. When the Nobel Prize winner for Chemistry was giving their longer-than-normal speech, Siebren glanced up to Harold at the balconies. They’ve known each other for so long that they’ve perfected the art of conversing with only their eyes. Even through those thick rim glasses, Siebren knew what Harold was thinking.</p><p><em>Nervous?</em> Harold’s eyes asked.</p><p>Siebren gave the briefest of nods when he was sure no one else was looking too closely at him. <em>Are the parents OK?</em></p><p><em>Wouldn’t you like to know? </em>Harold’s eyes glittered. <em>You'll find out later. </em></p><p><em>Tease, </em>Siebren smirked for just a second before staring forward.</p><p>When the last Laureate finished their speech and the music reached its conclusion, Siebren barely stopped himself from sighing in relief. The prize ceremony had ended, and now came the banquet. The royals and the government officials were led first to the banquet table, followed by the other Nobel Prize Laureates, including Siebren himself. Siebren was led through twisting corridors, flanked on all sides by bodyguards. Soon, he found himself at a large ball room filled with tables. A string quartet was playing in the background, and  Siebren would appreciate the music if it weren’t for the fact that the cello was microscopically out of tune. He grimaced. This was going to be the least of his problems right now.</p><p>He was led to his table, which sat 6 people; enough for his guests, plus a spare seat for where his father would take, if he were still alive. Name placards were on every plate, and his was at the head of the table, between Harold’s designated seat and his mother’s. He sat down, took the napkin off the table and placed it in his lap, and waited patiently for the guests to finally arrive.</p><p>Or at least, he tried to wait. Patience was never his middle name.</p><p>He couldn’t help but wonder how Harold’s meeting with his mother went. He wish he was there, because at least he will know what to expect. They must have talked before the award ceremony, there was no question about it, but whether it went well or not, that was difficult to say. Harold and his mother were very different people, and that wasn’t taking into account Harold’s parents either.</p><p>Siebren didn’t know why he cared so much about getting along with each other’s parents. The few relationships he had, he didn’t care what his parents thought. But then his previous relationships never lasted long. And his relationship with Harold felt like it’s lasted eons. They’ve survived the distance between the Earth and the moon, the ever shifting time zones, and the constant pull of their work.</p><p>If they could survive all that, surely they can survive a meeting with the parents.</p><p>As if on cue the guests startled to trickle in. They were led to their seats by Omnic waiters in dark vests and shirts, their noses raised high at the sight of someone that was remotely different from them. Harold and his family was among the last, walking just in front of his parents, Conrad and Leela Winston. Cornelia de Kuiper was a fair few steps behind, being led to the table by her own waiter.</p><p>It took all of Siebren’s self control not to take Harold into his arms and kiss him sweetly for all the world to see. Instead, he crossed his arms behind his back and gave his warmest smile.</p><p>“Congratulations, Siebren,” Harold said. “Now you can say you’ve made it in life. A Nobel prize for Physics doesn't come every day.”</p><p>Siebren chuckled. "I'm still waiting on <em>your</em> Nobel prize, Dr. Winston."</p><p>"Hey, <em>Dr. Winston </em>is my dad. Today, I'm Harold." He took a step forward and reached for Siebren's bowtie, adjusting it so it was straight. Quieter, he said, "I know this probably doesn't mean much from me but…I'm very proud of you. Maybe now the universe sees all the good you've done."</p><p>Before Siebren could tear up and kiss Harold properly on the lips, Harold’s father, Conrad, immediately went forward and stuck his hand out toward Siebren. Harold sadly stood aside as Siebren accepted the handshake. His hand ached, but he couldn’t show it. A show of weakness in front of Harold's parents was probably not the best idea in the world. “Dr. Conrad Winston. My son’s told me all about you. Congratulations, Dr. de Kuiper.”</p><p>“You are very kind, but you can call me Siebren,” he said. “I don't believe much in titles personally."</p><p>"Definitely agree on that. Wish I could just have people call me Conrad but some people get so attached to the strangest things," Conrad smiled. He didn't look much like Harold until he smiled. He had the same smile as Harold, Siebren realised. Soft but wide, without malice or ill intent.</p><p>"I hope Harold hasn’t said anything too embarrassing about me."</p><p>“Just nice things, I can assure you,” Harold's mother, Leela, interjected. Her dress was certainly appropriate for the event, but compared to every other dress in view, it looked almost modest, with its simple black matte fabric. "I'm Leela. Congratulations on your award, Siebren."</p><p>Siebren took Leela's hand and gave a friendly peck to the back of her hand. He could practically feel his mother stir behind him and he quickly straightened. "M-my mother, Dr. Cornelia de Kuiper."</p><p>"A pleasure to meet you all. And an especial pleasure in particular to finally meet the man who has grabbed my son's interest," Cornelia's pale blue eyes stared at Harold. "What did you say you did, Harold? I can call you Harold, correct?"</p><p>"Y-yeah, Harold. A-and astrobiology." Harold cleared his throat. "I'm...one of the lead researchers for the Horizon Project. You've probably heard of it. Gorillas on the moon?"</p><p>"Oh that. I have heard of it. I remember hearing the primary objective is to promote colonisation of different planets and moons." Cornelia's lips thinned. "I could never work in an environment like that. Too many filthy animals."</p><p>Harold frowned. "Siebren did tell you my family works with animals, right?"</p><p>"I don't mean anything about it," Cornelia said. "It's a testament to the human spirit. I'm just surprised that my son chose a man like you."</p><p>Harold bristled. "Why are you surprised?"</p><p>“You’re not at all like the people my son normally associates with, let alone pursue a romantic relationship with. Considering the data, it makes you an outlier. And outliers are very interesting."</p><p>Harold reached for Siebren’s hand and entangled their fingers together, gripping tightly. “We love each other,” he said defiantly.</p><p>Cornelia smiled, but it wasn’t a kind smile. Or at least, it didn’t look like a kind smile. From Siebren’s experience, it probably was supposed to be a kind smile, but it never looked that way with his mother. “I know,” she said cryptically. “I can tell you both do. Yet another outlier."</p><p>To Siebren's mercy, the servers began to arrive with the dishes for the three-course meal, and the ballroom was without voices. Only the music and the scuff of shoes on well-polished floors could be heard as the food was unveiled with grand ceremony. And it looked extraordinary, beyond anything Siebren's ever seen but it looked a little…</p><p>"Isn't this a bit small?" Conrad stage-whispered.</p><p>Leela tried to shush him with a harsh nudge to his shoulder. Siebren shared a glance with Harold, his lips pressed thin and his stomach gurgling. He had to agree with Harold's father here, although he wouldn't be nearly as nice. The food was so microscopic, he'd need to borrow one of Harold's microscopes to see it.</p><p>"You know, I know this good Chinese place nearby, walking distance from here,” Conrad continued. "When I booked the flight, a friend of mine recommended it. And I don’t know about you all, but at the very least it’ll fill our stomachs."</p><p>Cornelia put her cutlery down before whispering, "It's rude to talk at such a prestigious event."</p><p>"But mother, you do agree this won't be…satisfactory?" Siebren said. "Plus, we could talk better there. Get to know one another?"</p><p>Cornelia paused for several seconds. She took a bite of her caviar-encrusted pastry and frowned. From her, it was the equivalent of a gag. "Perhaps you have a point, son."</p><p>The second and third courses passed by with just as much ceremony, but there wasn't much chatter apart from a few hushed whispers. The tension between the two families was so thick it could be cut with a knife. Harold in particular was staring intently at his food, which had the strange effect of making him look cute in Siebren's opinion. Despite the stress and the free flowing wine, Siebren limited himself to one glass of red. As much as he'd like to lower his inhibitions tonight, he'll need all his wits for dinner. When the courses were finished and guests were free to mingle or leave, everybody practically bolted out of the table and out into the brisk Swedish winter night.</p><p>Harold seemed to be aware of where the restaurant was, walking purposely forward at the front while the parents chatted animatedly with each other. Siebren sped up until he was beside Harold.</p><p>“At least my parents seem to be getting along with your mom,” Harold frowned.</p><p>Siebren could pick up bits and pieces of the conversation. They seemed to have found common ground with their disapproval of airline food, of all things. The Winstons seemed to be talking about the logistics of shipping food through international airways post-Omnic Crisis, while his mother was discussing about the physics of cooking and how altitude affects taste. “I’m sure you two will hit it off.”</p><p>“And if we don’t?” Harold asked.</p><p>“Then nothing. It doesn’t matter.” Siebren gave a small smile. “We still love each other, do we not?”</p><p>Harold glanced down at Siebren’s prone hand before taking it into his own. “We do,” Harold chuckles nervously. “I’m gonna be honest though. She looks like she’ll put a hit out on me if I so much as look at you the wrong way.”</p><p>“Don’t worry about that,” Siebren smirked. “She’ll just kill you herself if she wants to. She is a strong, independent woman after all.”</p><p>“Pfft, come on, Siebren.”</p><p>Siebren walked a bit faster.</p><p>Harold paled. “Siebren, please tell me you’re joking.”</p><p>Siebren continued walking, to the point that he was almost jogging. He couldn’t help but laugh.</p><p>“S-Siebren!”</p><p>But Siebren continued to laugh as Harold chased after him, leading to a short sprint to the restaurant. He might’ve looked ridiculous with his fancy medal in a box and his stuffy tuxedo inside what could only be described as a family restaurant, but if anyone had something to say, they didn’t. They’re led to a large table with a giant square hotpot in the middle. They were all given menus, but Siebren and Cornelia quickly surrendered theirs in favour of letting the Winston family decide.</p><p>"Have you ever had a hotpot?" Leela asked Cornelia.</p><p>"I'm unfamiliar," Cornelia frowned. She watched as a handful of bright vegetables were sunk into what looked like a brown stew. Cornelia swallowed tightly, eyes wide as balloon. Siebren was trying not to laugh too much. He had that exact reaction the first time the scientists on Horizon made it. </p><p>"It's very good. Very filling. We put ingredients like vegetables and meat into this soup and we cook it for a while. It's like a stew, but you can customise your taste."</p><p>Cornelia seemed to understand, up until Leela began to introduce the sauces, half of which Siebren knew his mother had never tried before in her life. Siebren just chuckled to himself as he scooped a big portion for his own bowl and coated the mixture with a healthy helping of sesame paste. </p><p>Harold was sniffling his nose at Siebren.</p><p>"What?"</p><p>"With that much paste, you won't be able to taste the hotpot," Harold pointed out.</p><p>Siebren smirked. "Isn't that the point?"</p><p>"You eat raw herring."</p><p>"It's not raw, it's got chopped onions." Siebren glanced to the side at the bucket of utensils. It had spoons, and chopsticks, but no forks. His face fell. It was almost the same expression his mother was making at the moment.</p><p>Harold grabbed a pair of chopsticks and then turned to Cornelia. "Do you know how to use chopsticks?"</p><p>Cornelia was silent for a few seconds before shaking her head. "I haven't ever had a need to use them."</p><p>Harold turned to Siebren. "Do <em>you </em>know how?"</p><p>Siebren blushed. "You already know I can't, Harold."</p><p>"Always the Europeans," Harold winked at his parents, who chuckled politely in turn. Siebren felt his cheeks go red.</p><p>"Cornelia, I'll show you how to use them if you like," Harold's mother said. "Or if you prefer, I can see if perhaps the staff here has a fork for you to use instead."</p><p>"No, no, it's fine," Cornelia lifted her hand and daintily grabbed the chopsticks. "Show me how. It is a good learning experience."</p><p>"Yeah, Siebren," Harold nudged Siebren.</p><p>Siebren's cheeks went even more red. "Just show me how to use them already."</p><p>Harold just smiled brightly, using it as an excuse to wrap his arm around Siebren. His fingers were nimble but soft as he adjusted Siebren's hand into the correct position. They're slightly dry from years of lab work, the result of not using hand lotion often enough. Siebren couldn't help but glance at Harold's ring finger, empty and untouched. It'd look good with a silver ring, or even a gold one. He glanced at his own, and wondered briefly what it might look like if they had matching rings.</p><p>He looked up, as Harold's parents helped instruct Siebren's mother on the proper way to use a chopstick. As with everything, she picked it up near instantly, her face brightening when she was successfully able to pick up a piece of boiled beef. Siebren could imagine his mother making a similar joyful expression at a wedding, or a betrothal party. She'd be proper but full of life as she freely interacted with Harold's parents and their small party of close friends. The parents would share stories–embarrassing ones from their childhood and their teen years that will make both him and Harold cringe in shame. The guests would drink and chat and be merry, and Siebren would hold Harold's hand throughout the entire ordeal because he would never want to let go.</p><p>Under the table, Siebren's other hand entwined with Harold's. Cornelia turned to Siebren for a moment, face softening as she glanced down at their conjoined fingers. Her crystal blue eyes glittered knowingly. It almost seemed like approval.</p><p>For a brief moment, Siebren felt a smile flicker across his face. When he was sure no one else in the restaurant was looking, he stole a quick kiss from Harold's cheek before returning his attention to the hotpot, pretending nothing had ever happened. The chuckle that bubbled out of Harold as the steam hit his glasses was more than worth the risk.</p><p>The five of them ate until they couldn't anymore, and then they had a bit of dessert after that. Fried icecream was certainly one of the more unusual things Siebren had ate (Harold still thought <em>maatjesharing</em> was weirder), but it was an interesting experience. While they wait for their stomachs to settle, they shared stories of their lives. It was mostly Harold and Siebren talking about their experiences on Horizon lunar colony, building off of each other, correcting details and adding new perspectives. Before he knew it, the two of them were leaning toward each other, shoulder to shoulder, smiling and laughing warmly as if today was any other day. If Siebren asked, Harold would probably say that it was the reverse, that every day was special because they were physically together again and not separated by the moon and space and responsibilities.</p><p>Underneath the table, Harold's parents held onto each other's hands in a tender embrace. Cornelia was smiling warmly. Every now and then, Siebren's hands would find Harold's once more, a secret kiss shared with little touches.</p><p>Harold's parents said goodbye shortly after they exited the restaurant, giving friendly hugs to everyone including Cornelia before entering their taxi. As Siebren and Harold waited for Cornelia's taxi, she turned her head to Harold.</p><p>"<em>He is interesting,</em>" Cornelia said in Dutch to Siebren.</p><p>Siebren frowned. "<em>Interesting?"</em></p><p>"<em>I like him, Siebren. I can see why you like him too. Reminds me a little bit of that children show host you used to have a crush on when you were a child."</em></p><p>Siebren blushed. Who didn't have a crush on Bill Nye, he morosely thought. "<em>So you approve?"</em></p><p>"<em>You don't need my approval, Siebren. You've already got everything you've ever wanted. You've already exceeded your father and I's expectations when you became a researcher, and infinitely so tonight with your Nobel Prize." </em>She gave a soft smile as she grasped Siebren's hand. "<em>It's time you finally get the other thing you want."</em></p><p>Siebren felt something in his hand, opening it slightly only to quickly put his other hand over to cover it. He whipped his head around, but Harold hadn't seemed to notice. "<em>M-mother, this isn't…you can't give me this."</em></p><p><em>"Your father's engagement ring," </em>Cornelia uttered. "<em>I know he wouldn't approve</em>–<em>he didn't understand the fight for Omnic rights either–but I think this would be best in your hands." </em>She closed Siebren's hand, turning to Harold. "You love my son, do you not?" She asked in English.</p><p>Harold's eyes widened. "O-of course."</p><p>"And you?" Cornelia turned to Siebren.</p><p>He shyly nodded. "<em>Ik heb vlinders in mijn buik." </em>He turned to Harold and translated, "Whenever I'm with you, butterflies are always fluttering in my stomach."</p><p>Harold smiled brightly. The taxi rolled to a stop right in front of them and Cornelia entered. Before she closed the door, she turned to Harold and said, "Take care of Siebren for me."</p><p>"I will," Harold said. He took Siebren's hand in his own. "Near or far, I always will."</p><p>Cornelia grinned, and then she gave a queenly wave. She closed the door, and Harold and Siebren watched as her taxi sped off into the distance. They spent several more seconds staring at the road, waiting for the smoke to settle.</p><p>Harold turned to Siebren. "What were you guys talking about?"</p><p>"N-nothing," Siebren quickly pocketed the ring in his pocket. "Just talking about you. She likes you."</p><p>"Thank goodness," Harold sighed. "I didn't really speak to her, so I had no idea what she was going to say or think. When she said she didn't know how to use chopsticks, I nearly had a myocardial infarction."</p><p>"Well, I'm glad you did not have a heart attack," Siebren smiled. "What about your parents?"</p><p>"Nervous about what they think?" Harold teased.</p><p>Siebren laughed as he pressed a kiss to Harold's lips. "Of course I am. I said it just now, didn't I? The butterflies are always fluttering in my stomach. But that's just a sign of my affection for you."</p><p>Harold chuckled flightily as he wrapped his arms around Siebren's neck and stole another kiss. "<em>Ik hou van jou</em>. That's how you say it, right?"</p><p>Siebren felt for the velvet box in his pocket. He was tempted to bring it out now and see that beautiful face in front of him light up like the stars in the sky. But perhaps next time, on a less exciting day, when he's sure that he's fully conquered his nerves. "<em>Wij houden van elkaar," </em>Siebren said softly. "We love each other."</p>
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